I have a collection of half-written posts on my laptop, some of which I wrote at the tail end of 2015, stating that I hadn’t posted in a while or posted regularly and how I hoped to be back. I never published them; I’m still writing them. I haven’t lost my love of blogging at all; I admit, I just haven’t made the time for it recently.
Something I’ve come to realise is that I just can’t fit everything that I want to do in the 24 hours in a day, the seven days in a week, the four/five weeks we have in a month, the twelve months we have in a year. There’s spending time with those I love, there’s walks to be taken by the sea or through the forest on a glorious spring day, there are books to read, and a hundred unwritten stories in my brain. There are plays to see and new places to explore. There are hobbies to discover and old interests to pick up again. There’s my job to carry on throwing myself into.
But I thought recently: if I’m spreading myself too thinly, how will I ever succeed at the things I want to?
There’s no point to this post other than perhaps to find some reassurance that I’m not the only one who has felt like this. It’s a reminder that I’m still here (and reading!) and an apology that I haven’t read or commented on your blogs recently. It’s also a post in the hope that I will be back blogging regularly before too long.